Three Pieces
Parker Tettleton
New York Quarter
I want to make a noise—I know I don’t know what the noise is thinking. The second sentence is we cut several branches off a tree. A silence keeps fucking up in my dreams. A stuffed animal was in a pond & I was diving for it. I was doing everything I could because in a dream you’re better than you actually are.
Beer Leads To More Beer
I’m a golf ball at the Masters in a dream—the thing is I’m not a golf ball, I’ve never been to the Masters, & that wasn’t my dream. We’re early but we’re also late, kicking eyes back & forth with the desperate Pacific Northwest sunlight. You are on a flight for at least a year with a family of ducks serving as the pilot & the people helping you pull your face out of the toilet. I can quit looking for jobs to quit & think & write & exercise & eat & fuck. We make up a world: our dreams we don’t remember, we keep recycling our thoughts to each other, we wake up the ghosts & the ghosts say they’re not us.
Pearl & Marty
I don’t have two names for two names. The second sentence is a phone call full of shit in front of me in front of you. You arrive looking like a burglar & we eat & we kiss & we barely sleep. One of the best things about dying eventually is not having to shave anymore. We eat salads that cost like sunlight should. We’re home now: the sunlight is still the sunlight, it’s free & we want to want to do something about it, with it. All I know is I know nothing & it’s professional.
Parker Tettleton is a vegan Leo living in Portland, Oregon. He is the author of This Is A City (Ravenna Press, forthcoming), Please Quiet (Ravenna Press, 2018), Ours Mine Yours (Pitymilk Press, 2014), Greens (Thunderclap Press, 2012) and Same Opposite (Thunderclap Press, 2010). Parker Tettleton is online at parker-augustlight.blogspot.com.